


Fair Trade

by BionicallyIronic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Brock Rumlow is an asshole, F/M, Hand Wavey medicine, Kidnapping, Mentions of Violence and Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Sexy times!, So is Alexander Pierce, Viking AU, historically accurate puppies!, ladies in charge, no dogs will ever be harmed in this fic, not even close to canon, not historically accurate, other characters to come, the author has taken so many liberties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BionicallyIronic/pseuds/BionicallyIronic
Summary: Darcy is promised to James, a warrior from a nearby village who was recently held in the clutches of the Hydra Tribe. Only problem is, they're not quite done with him yet.\\\\\\\\I just really wanted a Vikings AU with Bucky and Darcy. More elements and tags will be added as this goes on.





	1. Chapter One

Night was settling fast over her little village, and Darcy knew that each star to appear in the heavens brought her closer to her fate. If she could have her way, she’d be ‘round the back of her family’s cottage, taking a moment to gather her wits. And maybe a nip of the mead her father had procured for the night’s ceremony. Instead, she sat before a disc of polished metal facing her blurry reflection as her sister Jane twined the delicate stems of small white flowers into the crown of braids atop her head.

“Breathe,” her sister said as she paused her ministrations to squeeze at Darcy’s shoulders. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Of course you can say that!” Darcy said, meeting Jane’s gaze in the reflection. "Things went well enough for you last year.”

At that, Jane’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink, dark enough that it couldn’t be mistaken in the dim candlelight. Jane had met her match last spring and they were wed soon after. The man, as was tradition, had traveled from a neighboring town to find a wife. Tall and blonde and broad, he had announced his name was Thor, and that he demanded the finest woman of marriageable age be brought to him. But Jane would have none of that. She separated from the gathered crowd and marched right up to the tyrant. A smile like the sunrise had split his face, but was quickly replaced with shock when Jane slapped him. Thor was smitten from that moment forward.

The courtship had been like none the townsfolk had ever seen before. Thor trotted around the village after Jane, helping wherever he could, trying to prove his worthiness. Jane and Darcy’s father, Erik, adored him and begged Jane to wed him immediately. But it wasn’t until Jane had convinced him that women were not chattel and he proved he’d learned the error of his ways did she even consider his proposal But once she’d allowed herself to fall for him, she had fallen indeed. And now they were expecting, maybe only a month or two more given the way Jane’s belly jutted forth.

“You’ve wrecked all my plans, little one,” Darcy cooed at her future niece or nephew. “Before your father came along, your mother and I had agreed to never marry and go on adventures, finding and trading for goods that father could sell.”

Jane tugged on a loose coil of hair. “Don’t say that! We both know that this,” she pointed to her belly, "is Thor's fault."

The door to their father's cottage slammed open, causing the women to burst into giggles when they realized Thor himself had entered. To his credit, he was used to the sisters' merriment. He simply crossed the room to kiss his wife before kissing the knuckles of his sister-in-law.

“Sister Darcy! You look quite lovely this evening. The Berserker will be struck senseless when he sees you.”

The smile fell from her face. That was the other reason why Darcy was in such a foul mood. While men travelling from the nearby villages to seek a wife was a common enough occurrence, the circumstances surrounding Darcy’s betrothed was another. Perhaps fearing that his other daughter would not find a match as much to his liking as Thor, her father Erik had taken it upon himself to procure a match for his youngest on his own. While trading in another town, he had met the warrior and promised Darcy to him. Upon making this announcement, Darcy, for the first time in her life, had not known what to do. Not only was she to be married, but to a brute who was known as The Berserker.

Darcy had argued, but her father told her that the man had an impeccable reputation, was strong, and had vowed to stay in their village both to help with trade and for protection of the goods Erik sold to make a living. Darcy had contemplated running away, but with Jane’s babe due soon, she didn’t have the heart to abandon her sister. She was good and stuck.

Typically, her betrothed would have come to visit, to woo Darcy with presents and goods. But she’d seen neither hide nor hair of the man since her father had joyously announced that he’d found her a husband. Word quickly spread to her village that her intended had been captured after a battle with the Hydra Tribe. The men of the tribe were horrific, some even went so far as to describe them as demonic. They travelled from village to village, pillaging their goods, murdering the townsfolk, and burning whatever was left to the ground. Rumor had it that the men filed their teeth into points to frighten their enemies, and ate the flesh of their victims. They were monsters, and her betrothed was as good as gone forever.

Yet at the time, Darcy could not find it in her heart to celebrate. She had gotten what she wanted, but at a price she would wish upon no one. For a while, Darcy worried that her father would try to find another man for her to wed, but he did not. She didn’t know if it was out of pity, or waiting to find the right person, or even if he thought she was cursed. Either way, she enjoyed her freedom while she had it. Even if that freedom had only lasted half a year.

“You’re all done,” Jane said as she straightened the neckline of Darcy’s gown.

She rose from her stool, the heavy silks of her dress swishing about her feet. The reflection in the disc showed a poised young woman, decked in more finery than most from their village could afford. But she was the merchant’s daughter, and he had insisted on only the best. Her gown was deep blue silk, the bodice studded with dark stones and laced up with golden cords. A belt of golden links hung low on her hips, and Jane was draping a fur collar about her shoulders. The weight of it comforted her, even as the soft fur tickled at her cheeks. Darcy knew she looked lovely. But she didn’t feel lovely. She felt like another item in her father’s inventory, ready to be traded.

As though he knew she was thinking of him, her father appeared at her side, arm extended toward her. Erik was a good man who believed in fair trade. Darcy just couldn’t believe that fair trade included trading her.

They stepped out of the cottage and into the chilly night air. Roughly fifty paces ahead, the villagers had gathered around the bonfire in the court square. Though it was too dark to see it, the ocean waves lapping at the shore could be heard over the crackling fire, and the air smelled of salt. Two men stood side by side near the flames. Both were tall and broad of shoulder, with arms Darcy would not have been able to wrap her fingers around. It was as if her father had been so happy to have a man like Thor to help carry his wares, that he went out to find her a copy so he could have a spare. One of the men had locks of deep gold, the firelight glinting in his hair and beard. He stood tall and proud, a great shield strapped to his back. The other was darker, his hair like jet beads. One side of his scalp had been roughly shorn while the rest of the strands were left long. With a small movement, he was able to use his hair like a curtain to hide from those gathered around.

At this, Darcy frowned. The man was fine to look at, with his strong jaw and plush lips. The beginnings of a beard made his cheekbones sharp and defined. And yet, as she tried to catch his gaze, he just stared at the packed earth.

“James! And Steven! Such a pleasure to see you again,” Erik said, striding over to meet them. He left Darcy behind, as though she wasn’t even a part of this. To make things worse, he’d called neither ‘Berserker.’ Was her intended the man with the golden hair? Or the black? How vexing to be this close to meeting her suitor and still not know who he was! Her father clasped arms with the golden-haired man, then his friend. But as Erik clapped down on the other man’s arm, the darker-haired man hissed in pain, his knees nearly buckling beneath him.

On instinct, Darcy darted forward, wrapping an arm around the man to help steady him. Then, finally, he met her gaze. His eyes were the blue of the sky on a brilliant summer day, and Darcy nearly gasped from the intensity of his stare.

“What’s wrong with him, Steven?” her father asked. His eyes had gone shrewd and cold, the way they did when he believed another trader wished to make a fool of him.

The golden-haired man, Steven, said, “’Tis the work of Hydra, I’m afraid. They branded his arm as though he were property in an effort to keep him to fight on their behalf. He fought off the infection, but the flesh is still tender.” He spat the words out as though they were dirty, and for a moment, Darcy was caught up in his fury. How could anyone do that to another human being? But then the other meaning behind his words made themselves clear. If the dark-haired man had been with Hydra, then this was him. Her betrothed. James.

“You didn’t think to mention this to me?” her father yelled.

A furrow deepened between Steven’s brows. “My concern was to rescue my friend and then bring him to his bride. We made way as soon as he was healed enough to travel.”

“But he’s _damaged_ ,” Erik said, the words so vile it made Darcy’s chest ache. “My daughter is hale and hearty, yet you expect me to wed her off to half a man?”

For a moment, the villagers who had crowded around for a wedding celebration seemed to hold their breath all together. Darcy could feel James stiffen at her side. He began to extricate himself from her arms, but before he could, she tightened her grip on his side.

Unfortunately, her father wasn’t done being an ass.

“You,” he said, thrusting his finger into Steven’s chest. “You’ll marry my daughter instead.”

Steven’s eyes widened in a way that would be comical were the situation not so dire. His gaze darted from Erik to Darcy to some face in the crowd she couldn’t see.

“No, he won’t.” Darcy straightened her back to stand at her full height, even if that wasn’t much. “This is my betrothed. This is who I will marry.”

Erik’s mouth gaped like a freshly caught flounder. “Darcy! You shall not!”

It was as if the man had forgotten who she was! Never in her life had she meekly done what was asked of her, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“I shall! This is the man I want by my side.” It was then Darcy noticed the man in question had barely moved, barely breathed. She turned to glance at him, suddenly nervous. “If he’ll have me.”

For a brief moment, Darcy wondered if he would say no. He’d just been saved from a traumatic incident and was being forced to wed someone he didn’t know. She’d have refused, that was for certain. Just as she was wondering how she could back away and keep some of her dignity intact, James nodded. It was a small thing, but it was enough. Darcy smiled at him, wide and blinding.

Almost as if he knew time was of the essence, Thor yelled, “Call forth the Jarl!”

The crowd shuffled about until the town elder stepped into view. Held loosely in his gnarled hands was the coil of rope for the handfasting.

“No!” Erik said. “I won’t allow it.”

Darcy glared at her father. “There is nothing for you to allow. I am of age. I am a shieldmaden who has defended this town in times of peril. Your approval is unnecessary.”

The Jarl simply nodded his ancient head when Erik looked to him for confirmation, and stepped toward them. She was doing this. How she had gone from dreading marrying this stranger to willingly thrusting her arm toward him for the handfasting? She didn't know, but she also knew she wouldn't back down. As the elder positioned James directly opposite her, Darcy realized that the hands and arms to be bound together were always the left – the arm James had injured. For that, at least, there was an easy solution. Darcy lowered her left arm and raised her right, encouraging James to do the same with a small smile. One that he returned. He clasped her right arm just below the elbow, the heat from his skin enough to reach her through the silks.

“No!” her father said again. James’ grip on her arm tightened, just a touch, enough to let Darcy know that he too was frustrated with Erik. “Handfasting is always, always, on the left. Do it correctly.”

A fierce swell of anger rose in Darcy’s chest. The only reason for her father’s outburst was to hurt and shame her betrothed. She opened her mouth to let her father know that she would wed this man how she pleased when James’ grip loosened. Before she could protest, he extended his left arm to her. Gently, she reached for him, wrapping her fingers as far around his arm as she could. A tiny flinch tightened his eyes, but was gone before she was sure she’d seen it. She laid her arm flush against his, watching as his deft fingers encircled her arm. She couldn’t be sure, but for the briefest moment she thought she caught a glimpse of red, inflamed skin peeking from the cuff of his tunic. Then the Jarl began, and her attention was elsewhere.

The Jarl began chanting words Darcy had heard all her life. Words of promises and safety, of home and happiness, love and children. Gods, _children_. The realities of the situation crashed back into her and her knees felt weak. Was she really going through with this? She glanced at James, who was staring at her steadily. With his free hand, he reached up to cradle her cheek, stroking his thumb across her lower lip to free it from the torture of her teeth. His gaze was hypnotic, and it was as easy as falling to linger there, ignoring the Jarl, her father, everyone who wasn’t the man she was marrying. He never said a word, but she knew he was making his own vow to her then. One far more important than any her village elder could impose.

A raucous cheer rose from the crowd, shattering the spell Darcy had been under. It was done. They were wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik accidentally became a douchebag! For the record, I love the character and the actor, just needed a jerk.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's ancient Norse for BOW CHICKA BOW WOW?

The evening was a whirl. Jane and Thor rushed forward to envelop her in a hug while Steven clapped James on his uninjured shoulder. The Jarl unwound the weathered cord, smiling at Darcy and her bridegroom. The whole congregation moved to the longhouse where the feast was already laid out, and Darcy and James were led to the table on the dais. Roasted meats, bread fresh from the ovens, golden green pears, and heaps of walnuts were piled upon their table, and after the Jarl gave them one last blessing, the celebration began.

James left her side only once, to fetch the bridal ale. It was custom for the bridegroom to present his bride with a chalice of ale brewed for the occasion. Darcy had been chatting with Jane when she felt strong fingers stroking along the back of her hand. She turned in her seat to find James kneeling before her, a silver cup in his hands. Her world felt off-kilter, having a man so strong at her feet. But then he smiled at her, warm and genuine, and all felt right again. She took the cup from his hands, and drank deeply before offering the ale to him. He wrapped his hands over hers as he lifted the chalice to his mouth.

Perhaps it was the ale, or perhaps it was the handsome man kneeling at her feet, but when the call came to escort the couple to the bridal tent, Darcy didn’t argue. Steven helped Darcy down from the dais as Jane took James’ hand to lead him away. The townsfolk cleared a path along opposite sides of the longhouse, showering the two with blessings as they passed. Darcy hunted for glimpses of her husband through the crowd only to find him doing the same. Even from across the hall, she could see the color in his cheeks and the glimmer in his eyes. She couldn’t have kept herself from smiling if she tried.

The night air cooled her cheeks as they stepped outside. As Thor escorted her toward the tent, he leaned close to Darcy and said, “Little sister, do not be afraid of what’s to come next. If James is a good man, he will be gentle with you. And if he is not, say the word and I will take care of him.”

Were she not giddy with ale, Darcy might have blushed. She didn’t have the heart to let Thor know she’d taken a tumble a time or two before, so she just patted his arm. “Thank you, brother.”

The bridal tent was located in the center of their town. It stood year-round, and served many purposes. Children were born there, wounded were tended to. Their priests spoke to the gods there, and divined their messages and wishes. But tonight, it housed the bed where Darcy and James’ marriage would be consummated.

The tent was bigger than some of the cottages surrounding it, with eight sides and a peaked roof under which even Thor could stand comfortably. James waited for her at the entrance, surrounded by onlookers and well-wishers. Once they were ensconced in the tent, the celebrations would continue until the morning, when they would be released. So even though they would be surrounded by reveling townsfolk, Darcy was thankful that unlike the practices of some of their neighboring villages, they would have some semblance of privacy.

James extended his hand – the right, she noticed – and led her into the tent. As the tent was laced up from the outside, Darcy realized this would be the first time she was alone with her new husband.

 _Husband._ What a heavy, weighty word. She stole a glance at the man from the corner of her eye. His gaze seemed to be fixed on the large bed at the back of the tent, and his inattention allowed her to study him.

Gods he was tall. She’d known it, how could she not, but now, alone with him, it was so much more obvious. The sheer bulk of him was intimidating, and she had a deep need to see what he looked like without his clothes.

A flush spread up her neck and to her cheeks. It was silly to think, but she had a sudden fear that he might know what she was thinking. She needed a distraction. Gently, she disentangled her fingers from his and strode to the table set against one wall of the tent. It was laden with dried fruit and small pots of honey, carafes of mead and flagons of water. Wedged between the sweets was a small clay pot with a note tucked beneath.

When she opened the pot, it released a sweet, minty scent with which she was very familiar. The salve was a concoction of Margaret’s, the town healer. She’d used it on a burn Darcy had incurred when she’d foolishly grabbed the handle of a too hot pan. Jane, caring woman that she was, had heard Steven mention James’ injury and had requested someone bring the salve to the tent in case it might help him.

“I’m sorry.”

Darcy whirled about to face James. “I beg your pardon?”

James shifted from one foot to the other. “I want to apologize.”

The pot of salve was still in her hands, and Darcy fidgeted with the lid as she spoke. “Whatever for?”

“I’m sure you were expecting someone different. Someone whole.”

At that, Darcy nearly laughed. “Sir-”

“James,” he said. “Please don’t ever call me ‘sir.’”

A small smile plucked at the corner of her mouth. “James. Never judge me by the words my father says. He means well. But he’s a buffoon.”

James chuckled then, a low throaty rumble that warmed her from the toes up.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the bed.

He sat, strong thighs spread in such a way that did nothing to diminish his size. Darcy wanted to attribute her growing discomfort with the heat from the brazier at the center of the tent, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Regardless, she removed the fur collar from about her neck and laid it upon the table before joining him by the bed. She stood between his legs, her gaze lingering on his long lashes and full mouth. Thank the gods the clasp on his cloak was a simple catch, otherwise she might have fumbled.

“Darcy,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I won’t have you do anything you do not wish to do. We can wait, tradition be damned.”

She pushed the heavy cloak off his shoulders. “Presumptuous, aren’t you?”

His smile was brilliant. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the one undressing me, _min elskan_.”

Again that damnable flush warmed her cheeks. _Min elskan_. My dearest. She hoped he didn’t see as she ducked her head to untie the laces of his tunic. He was pliable beneath her fingers, helping her to remove the clothing from his body.

Darcy had a brief moment to admire the flex and flow of his muscles, the even golden tone to his skin, and the way his throat bobbed under her inspection. Then she was faced with the horror of what Hydra did to him.

Steven had been blunt with his words, but those words still hadn’t conveyed the severity of the injury. Hydra had indeed branded him, but it must have gone horribly awry. The wound was still healing, the flesh red and inflamed. The site of the branding was a mess of gnarled flesh, but it seemed as though whatever image they were hoping to impress upon him might have been something like a star. She peered closer, her stomach roiling when she saw that whatever instrument Hydra used must have cut nearly to the bone. When she touched a tentative finger to the inflamed skin, it was incredibly hot. She pressed her lips together to keep from swearing. The flesh might never look as it should, but she was sure she could help it heal more quickly.

When she looked up to meet his gaze, she found he was already staring at her. The look in his eyes was a heady mix of pain and apology and shame. She reached up to cup his face with her small hand. “James. I am so sorry for what they did to you. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to use this salve on the wound to see if that helps.”

Long seconds passed in silence, and Darcy feared she’d overstepped her bounds. But then he closed his eyes, and turned into her touch. He nodded, just barely, and Darcy thanked the Gods for this small victory at the same time she damned all of Hydra for what they’d done.

She sat beside him on the bed, angling his injured arm toward the light from the brazier. The salve was cool when she dug her fingers in, and she scooped out a healthy amount, spreading it over the wound. She concentrated on the injury, ensuring it was covered, before moving on to spread a thin amount over his entire arm. Then she needed to bind it.

She glanced about the room, wishing Jane had though to include bandages. But how could she know the damage was so horrific? There were no bandages to be seen, but Darcy had always been resourceful.

“Here,” she said, standing and lifting up the outer layers of her gown to reveal the finer linen shift beneath. “Tear this into strips for me.”

The only way James could have looked more horrified was if she had told him she wanted to be taken in the town square. “ _Min elskan_ , I couldn’t…”

With a roll of her eyes, Darcy gathered up the linen and tugged with all her might. Only to have nothing happen. She tried again, the fabric pulling so hard against her fingers they turned red, but to no avail.

“You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” James asked, that playful glimmer returning to his eyes.

“Well, if you had done as I asked the first time ‘round…”

“Lesson learned, _min elskan_.” He took the material from her hands, and with one sharp pull, the screech of ripping fabric filled the tent. The force of it jerked her body toward his in a way that reminded her just how close she was to this man, her husband. He placed a hand on her hip to turn her, allowing him to follow the length of fabric as it wrapped around her body. He turned her once more, bringing her to face him again, and this time she knew there was no disguising the heat in her cheeks. With a grin, he held out the strip of fabric for her to take.

She grabbed it with a huff, turning him with a push to his good shoulder that was more forceful than strictly necessary, and began to wrap up his arm. When she finished, she half expected him to be ready to tease her further, but instead he was staring at her intently.

“I would very much like to kiss you, if you’ll let me.”

She didn’t even need to think about it. She nodded.

He curled one hand around her hip while the other slipped to the back of her neck. His lips sipped at hers, soft, delicate touches of exploration. Darcy ran her fingers along the lines of his shoulders and up his throat to stroke his jaw. She needed more.

Tangling her fingers into his hair she pulled him closer, opening up her mouth to him. He kissed her fiercely, as though he might devour her, until she had to pull away to catch her breath. Even then, he simply moved away from her mouth and down the column of her throat, nipping at her skin. When he reached the neck of her dress, he paused, turning his head to rest it upon her breast. "Darcy, the last thing I want is to make you do something you don’t want to do. I would ask that you lead me as far as you’d like to go, and tell me when to stop.”

A thrill ran up Darcy’s spine, power and need all bundled up in one. This incredibly strong man wanted her. And not only that, but he was placing his pleasure, and her own, in her hands.

Generosity like that should be rewarded.

Darcy stepped back from James, but stayed within his reach. Her hands slipped to the belt of gold links at her hips, unfastening it quickly and letting it fall to the floor in a noisy heap. She began unlacing the bodice of her gown, drinking in the hungry way James’ gaze followed her fingertips, until she could comfortably shrug her shoulders free of their confines. Tossing the gown to the foot of the bed, she gathered up the fabric of her ruined linen shift and lifted it over her head. She stood there, nude, letting James drink in the sight of her. 

It was only because she’d been watching him so closely that she saw the exact moment his breath caught in his throat. She closed the space between them and brought his hands up to rest on her hips. “I’d like to go very far with you, James.”

She bent down to kiss him and brought his hands up to cup her breasts. When he squeezed, ever so gently, she responded with a tiny moan of appreciation. When he ran his thumbs over her nipples, the moan was louder. He took that as permission to play, and Darcy thanked the stars above that James was a smart man. While Darcy kissed him, James ran his calloused hands over chest, circling the delicate skin around her nipples with one finger. She nipped at his plush lower lip, and made a girlish yip of surprise when he pinched both of her nipples and tugged.

Darcy pushed his good shoulder and James obediently fell backwards onto the bed. Laying the length of her body alongside his, she reached down and began to unlace the fastenings of his pants. The hard length of him twitched beneath her fingers as she worked, and she’d be lying if she said his inability to keep still didn’t please her.

Finally, his cock sprang free, thick and proud. The skin was silky, and when she wrapped her hand around him, he let out a low moan of satisfaction. She watched his face as she stroked his shaft, letting his minute expressions guide her. Soon enough he was panting, his hips rising up to meet her. She could have watched him for far longer, enjoying the way his eyes squeezed shut, how his brows furrowed up tight, mouth open in pleasure, but too soon, he reached down to still her hand.

“Darcy, _min elskan_ , please.”

She paused, delighted in how wrecked he sounded, and stretched up to kiss his jaw. “Yes, James?”

“I would like to pleasure you, if you’d let me.”

Again that damnable heat betrayed her, filling her cheeks with color. “I would let you.”

He propped himself up on his side, and stared down the length of her body. “Bring your legs onto the bed. Head here,” he said as he patted the pile of sheepskins near the head of the bed.

She did as instructed, waiting for his next move. For a moment he simply watched her, those sharp blue eyes making her want to squirm. Then his finger found the hollow of her throat and traced downwards, between her breasts and over her belly. Skimming over her mound, he found her lips, and dipped his finger between them.

The gasp that left her mouth felt too loud in the quiet of their tent. Never had she had a lover who cared about her pleasure, only their own. Then he began to move. He dipped his finger in deeper, deep enough to draw a stuttered breath out of her, then dragged upward. There. There. It was like a spark that threatened to set her whole body on fire. “Do that again!” she demanded, her voice a thready rasp.

James chuckled low and dark. “Anything for you, _min elskan_.”

Darcy didn’t think it could get better than that first touch, but with each small stroke, he proved her wrong and wrong again. Her back arched, and James took advantage by grabbing one of her nipples with his mouth and drawing on it for a deep suck. The sensations crashed together, ripping a scream from her throat. As the waves died down enough for her to breathe again, Darcy looked James in the eye and said, “Inside of me. Now.”

He wriggled out of his pants faster than she would have thought possible, and she might have laughed had he not chosen that moment to slide into her. Never had she felt so full in her life. She hooked her heels behind his thighs and admired the way he looked cradled between her legs until he began to thrust, and all thought was driven from her mind.

James was larger than her other lovers and more sure. His thrusts were powerful but calculated, as though he was hunting for something. Darcy had no idea what that could be – till he found it. He thrust deep and hard, the head of his cock hitting a spot deep inside of her that made her body shake. All her breath left her body on a cry, and James grinned in response. He repeated the motion again and again, coaxing to life within her in a pleasure that coiled tightly in her belly. He slid one hand down to the apex of her thighs and pressed. Waves of warmth vibrated through her body, arching her back and tensing her thighs. It only took two more thrusts for James to follow her.

Spent, James threw himself onto the bed, using his good arm to haul Darcy up on top of his chest. She lay there, limp and happy, trying to catch her breath and listening to the slowing beat of James’ heart.

“I could lose myself in you every night,” he said once his breathing was closer to normal.

Darcy propped her chin on her fist to see him better. “Who said we have to limit ourselves to evenings only?”

He chuckled, the rumble of it filling Darcy with joy. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She grinned in response. “There are worse ways to go, yes?”

His eyes went serious, and Darcy was afraid she’d ruined this special moment. But James reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging across her cheek to rub at her lower lip. “If my last breath isn’t taken in your arms, it will be a very sorry death indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, as always, I got my bachelor's with Google and my doctorate at Wikipedia. I fully admit I might have gotten things wrong, but hopefully all's fair in love and fanfiction.


	3. Chapter Three

When Darcy woke, it was with the heavy arm of her new husband draped across her waist. Never had she felt more content. Before they had gone to sleep, James had tamped down the fire in the brazier enough to keep the tent warm, but not sweltering through the night. Then he’d climbed into the bed beside her, snugging his body up behind hers and covering them both in blankets and furs.

Darcy let the sounds of the morning wash over her. The embers of their fire crackled low in the brazier, not yet completely out. Beyond the tent, birds were chirping their morning songs, joining in with her townsfolks’ celebrations that had continued from the night before.

Officially, her wedding would not be completed until she and James left the tent, but that time must be drawing near, as she could hear the friendly chatter of those preparing their morning meal, and the smell of meat roasting was beginning to waft into their tent.

It was then James tugged her closer, one hand drifting upward to cup her breast. The tips of his fingers found her nipple and began to roll it gently.

“I take it you’re awake?”

With his face pressed up against her back, she could feel his answering smile. “Fairly certain I’m still asleep.”

She rolled in his arms. James cracked one eye open, that impish grin still on his face. It made him seem younger.

“That’s a shame. I’d rather put your fingers to work.”

He laughed then, deep and throaty. “What task would you set them to?”

“Well,” she said, flipping to her back, “I seem to remember those talented fingers made quick work of my undoing last night.” She took his hand in both of hers, guiding it down her belly.

“Oh, you liked that?”

She smiled, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. “I did indeed.”

“Then lie back, _min elskan,_ for I have something you might like even more.”

James threw the blankets and furs off the both of them and moved to settle between her thighs. His cock stood tall and proud, but rather than rut up against her, he moved backwards until he could lay on his stomach. He propped her thighs over his shoulder, and before she could ask him what he intended to do, he touched his tongue to her slit and _licked._

Heat. Heat was the first sensation her addled mind registered. Then came the slick slide of his tongue on her most intimate of parts, pleasure darting outward with every touch. The stuttered cry that left her mouth only made him smile against her, and then set his tongue to work even faster.

He found that same small nub of flesh that he’d played with the night before, and the sensations were similar but different. Before, he’d played her carefully with his thick fingers, slow and cautious. But now he worked his mouth against her much like he kissed her, as though he might devour her.

Darcy was having a hard time keeping still, her hands searching for something to grip until they tangled in the furs beneath her. But her squirming was clearly bothering James as well. He grabbed her ass with both his hands and lifted, setting to work with fresh vigor. Just when she thought she might burst at the seams, she heard the hungry, wet sounds he made over her own pants of exertion, and it was enough to send her over the edge.

Her pleasure crested over in a warm wave that lapped over her again and again. Aftershocks pulsed through her until finally all her muscles went slack. And yet James continued his ministrations.

“Too much!” she said, tugging at his hair in an effort to get him to stop. “Too much!”

She laughed when she saw his satisfied smirk, but that laugh quickly turned to a gasp when he began to kiss his way up her body. He slid into her easily, thrusting his hips at a languid pace. He lowered his body closer to hers, gaze intensely close and unwavering.

In that moment, Darcy knew she could fall for him. Knew that she reveled in the feel of his gaze on her, the way he took care when touching her. Knew that whatever had happened to him at the hands of Hydra hadn’t been enough to rip the good out of him. He was a good man, and now he was hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him deeply.

As if her desire spurred him on, James quickened his pace, his hips snapping into hers again and again. He propped himself up on one arm and slipped his hand between them, to the place where they were joined together. Still sensitive from earlier, all it took was a little bit of pressure and Darcy lost herself again, clenching down on him before she went lax with bliss. She clung to his shoulder until finally his rhythm stuttered, and his breath drew in on a sharp gasp.

He collapsed on top of her, but carefully, holding up most of his weight with his uninjured arm as though he didn’t want to crush her. As Darcy carded her fingers through his soft locks, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and dropped kisses onto her sweaty skin.

“Good morning, _min elskan_.”

Darcy smiled. “Good morning, husband.”

James rolled off of her and onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow in order to see her better. He brought his hand to her face and traced the lines of her brows, her nose, her lips. “I wish I could have wooed you. Properly. Come to visit and given you gifts.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, copying him to run her fingers down the length of his jaw. “I don’t need those kinds of things.”

He made to nip at her fingers as they neared his chin, and his eyes sparkled brightly when she laughed. “So you’re telling me you don’t want the gifts I brought for you?”

“Silly man.”

“You don’t want them? I’ll tell Steven to pack them up.”

He rolled out of the bed, and made to walk to the entrance of the tent. Darcy grabbed onto his arm and shrieked with laughter when he pulled her to standing.

“Oh! Now you want them? Good, let’s go.” And if she was as light as a sack of down feathers, James picked her up and threw her over his good shoulder.

Her answering laugh was even louder this time, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so merry. She reached down to place a smack upon his ass, taking a moment to note how finely shaped it was. “At least let’s dress first. Now that you’re mine I don’t wish to share this with anyone.”

James chuckled as he set her back on her feet. “So smart, _min elskan._ I hope you can put up with me when I make stupid mistakes.”

She leaned into him, pressing their chests together. “As long as you follow up any mistakes you might make with that thing you just did with your tongue, I think we’ll be alright.”

“You see what I mean?” he asked, touching his nose to hers. “So smart.”

She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. First a delicate touch of her lips to his, then a more insistent press. She opened up her mouth to him, melting into his arms when he stroked his tongue alongside hers.

“Keep doing that and we’ll never leave this tent, _min elskan._ ”

“True. And there are presents to be had.” She grinned up at him.

He strode back to the bed, where his pants lay discarded on the floor. “I did promise gifts, didn't I?” Once he’d slipped them on, he found his cloak, and removed a small box from a hidden pocket. He sat on the bed and held it out to her.

Darcy had never been the kind of girl to make a fool of herself over trinkets. Perhaps it was because she’d grown up the daughter of a merchant, and saw more fine goods come in and out of her home in a month than most saw in a lifetime. But there was something about this, this first gift from James, that started a riot of excitement in her belly.

She crossed the short space to stand before him, and plucked the box from his fingers. Inside there was a ring. Silver swirls held a rough-hewn blue stone in place. The color was so rich and so bright, it looked as though a light shone from within it. James took it from her and tried it on each finger until he found the best fit; on the middle finger of her right hand. He then took her hand and kissed the knuckles.

“James,” she said, his name coming on an exhale, “it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He slid his big hands around her waist and tugged her to him. “No, Darcy. Thank _you._ ”

When they had both dressed they called to be let out of the tent. The townsfolk who had not succumbed to sleep and those who had but risen early let out a happy cheer upon their exit. They were brought back into the longhouse and given roasted meat and bread and fruit to break their fast. And all the while, James never broke contact with her, some part of him always touching some part of her.

As Darcy finished the last of her honey-drizzled bread, James said, “I would like for us to go visit my friend Steven. He is holding another of my gifts for you.” He stood, and offered his hand to help Darcy, not letting go as they made their way from the longhouse.

The morning had dawned bright but cold, enough that their breath steamed in the air before them. There was a small flurry of action to her right, and the next moment, James had placed his cloak around her shoulders. It was ridiculously big on her smaller frame, trailing in the dirt behind them, but when she faced him to protest, she couldn’t do it. He was smiling, and she couldn't bear to change that.

Steven had been set up in a small cottage Margaret used to store the ingredients for her healing practice. There wasn’t much room for a man as large as Steven, but there was enough room for a small cot. And apparently, bridal gifts.

The moment Steven opened the door, his face split into a grin. His big arms wrapped around James in an embrace, and Darcy noticed the care with which this man handled her husband. He was mindful of James’ injury, making sure to position his arms in such a way as to not harm the wound, and he let go the moment he noticed James begin to pull away. Darcy knew that this was a man of great caring and empathy, and she already liked him.

“Darcy!”

It was the only warning she had before she too found herself in Steven’s arms. Not only did he embrace her with the same ferocity as he had James, but since she was so much shorter than him, she was lifted off her feet. When she was able to catch a glimpse of James over Steven’s shoulder, it was clear that he was trying to stifle his laughter at the sight. Luckily for the both of them, Steven set her down soon after.

“I’m glad you’re here, James,” Steven said, backing up to allow them into the tiny cottage. “I have a feeling one of your gifts won’t be able to stay secret much longer.”

“I appreciate your help,” James said as he clapped Steven on the back. He led Darcy to sit on the cot. “Practical items first, don’t you think?”

Steven pointed to a corner and from behind some sacks stuffed with gods knew what, James retrieved a sword and shield and presented them to his new wife.

They were magnificent. The shield was painted a deep red, and bands of iron not only circled the outside of the shield, but also formed two curving arcs that met in the middle, reminding her of a set of ram’s horns. When James held it up for her and Darcy slipped her arm into the straps on the back, she found it surprisingly comfortable considering all of the extra metal. He then held out the sword in its scabbard for her to draw. It was perfectly balanced, and the hilt was sized just so for her smaller hand.

“Your father said you were a mighty shield maiden,” James said. His gaze tracked her every movement as she tested out her new weapons. “Our village’s blacksmith is quite talented, and I thought you might appreciate his work.”

“I do,” Darcy said, nearly breathless over the incredible craftsmanship and her new husband’s thoughtfulness. The blade cut through the air as she took a few tentative strokes, mindful of the limited space she had to work in. “Thank you.”

She felt so seen in that moment, so understood. Her father had known she was a fighter, but he always seemed to think that was a secondary aspect of her life. That she might fight now, but all that would stop when one day she became a wife and mother. But with these gifts, James made it clear that he did not feel the same.

She gently laid the weaponry onto the floor, before she said, “Steven, you might want to leave.” With one hand hooked behind his neck and the other around his shoulder, Darcy brought James down for a kiss.

James let her kiss him, but far too briefly. “ _Min elskan,_ ” he said, a laugh tinting his words, “ _min elskan,_ we must stop. Not only so that we do not offend Steven’s delicate sensibilities-”

“Delicate sensibilities!” Steven said with distaste.

“-but because I have one more gift for you.”

Darcy huffed but allowed James to disentangle himself from her arms. “Another gift? This is bordering on ridiculous, James.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand. “The sooner you realize that I myself am ridiculous, the better things will be for everyone. Now. Close your eyes.”

Reluctantly, she did as she was told. James asked Steven a question in a low murmur and Steven responded in kind. There was some shuffling at the far end of the cottage, and then James said, “Hold out your arms, _min elskan._ ”

Feeling foolish, Darcy extended her arms, waiting. Something warm was deposited in the crook of her elbows, and then James folded her arms around it. She dared a peek, only to squeal in delight when she fully opened her eyes. “A puppy! James!”

The puppy roused from its slumber at the sound of her voice, its liquid black eyes finding her immediately. The fur surrounding its nose and down its muzzle was black, while the rest of its pale gray fur was tipped in dark brown. The dog was small but its paws were big, promising a good sized hound when it was grown. But for now it was small and a bit chubby, which only endeared it to Darcy even more.

“It’s an elkhound,” James said, scratching the top of the puppy’s head. “She’ll be a good guard dog for you when she’s grown, and a good tracker, too. This pup had a strong father and an exceptionally smart mother, so odds are she will be, too.”

James’ thoughtfulness was almost too much for her to bear. Securing the puppy firmly in one arm, she used the other to tug James closer to her, melting into him when he pulled her against him.

“Thank you ever so much,” she said against his chest, a flare of happiness rising within her when he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Now tell Steven he really must leave so that I can climb you and thank you properly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold the ridiculousness that is the Norwegian Elkhound puppy: 
> 
>    
> 
> 
> Google tells me that these dogs (or their ancestors, at least) were around during Viking times and did in fact make good guardians and hunters.   
>  


	4. Chapter Four

“Syn, sit.”

Darcy woke to see James sitting on the floor near the fire, their puppy staring up at him with her head cocked in confusion. The dog was proving to be inquisitive and clever, having found – and eaten – an entire pot of stew Margaret had brought over and left on the table. In an effort to ensure the dog didn’t eat them out of house and home when the snows came, James had decided that training had to begin immediately.

“Syn. _Sit._ ”

Darcy rolled on their bed, stretching her arms above her head. It must still be early, as darkness still filled the hole in the roof meant to let out the smoke from their fire. “You’re doing it wrong,” she said.

James glanced in her direction, smiling when he saw that the furs had shifted enough to reveal part of her nude form. “I don’t think what I’m asking of her leaves much room for interpretation.”

“Yes, but you’re a pushover, and she knows it.” Darcy snapped her fingers to gain the dog’s attention. The chubby thing James had gifted her with had grown quickly these last weeks, and she ambled over on her gangly legs like a new faun. “Syn!” Darcy said when the dog came to her bedside, “Sit!”

Immediately the dog sat, her curled tail swishing across the floor.

Darcy reached down to scratch her puppy’s head. “See?” She looked at James as he stood. “Pushover.”

“I’ll show you a pushover,” James said as he darted to their bed. With a wicked grin, he climbed up and bracketed her body with his before Darcy could move away. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and began to nip, lick, and kiss at what he’d discovered was one of her most ticklish spots.

“You’re right!” she said as she laughed wildly. “You’re right! A big, strong man like you could never be a pushover–”

He kissed her then, taking advantage of her surprise to stroke his tongue into her open mouth. All thoughts of the dog fled from her mind and were replaced with James, of his lips and the press of his body into hers. She moaned when he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth before licking the hurt away.

“What will you do today, _min elskan_? he asked as he ran the tip of his nose along the length of hers.

“Aside from you?” she countered. At that he chuckled, and she will never be used to the way the rich sound makes her insides twist happily.

“You are trouble, you know that?”

“I’ve been told a time or two,” she said with a grin.

James kissed her again, drifting from her lips to her jaw to her throat. His lips ghosted over her breast, and he was seconds away from taking her nipple in his mouth when there was a heavy knock at the door.

With a groan, James dropped his head to rest between her breasts. “That will be Steven and Thor. We’re to go hunting.”

Once she learned that he was leaving, Darcy groaned as well. With a small push, James clambered off of her and she began to hunt around for a shift. “At least they learned to knock,” she grumbled as she slipped the garment over her head.

James gave a little snort of laughter. “Oh, I think Steven learned his lesson when he, as he said, ‘saw more of my bare ass than he ever cared to know about.’”

She giggled as she helped him lace up the vest covered in small metal discs that would help keep him safe from stray arrows. “Will you take Syn?”

Upon hearing her name, the puppy abandoned the slipper she was chewing and thumped her small tail.

“Not today,” James said, bending down to give the dog a scratch. “I want her to learn to track, but I also want to know that she’ll return when I call her.” He looped his belt with its many knives around his waist before slinging a quiver full of arrows over his chest. “You take her. Let her learn to protect you.”

Darcy wanted to chide him for being overcautious, especially when her ‘protection’ was a pup who had barely lost her milk teeth, but one day that pup would be a big dog with a big bite and she knew she’d feel differently about protection if she was carrying their child. “I shall. But I assure you, it will be an uneventful day. I’m going to visit Jane, and then Margaret promised to teach me how to make the salve for your arm. It’s working, isn’t it? It seems so much better than when I first saw it.”

“It is,” James said, taking one of her hands in both of his and stroking her knuckles with his thumbs. “And I have you to thank. And Margaret. Tell her for me?”

He let go of her hands to cup her face. The whiskers of his short beard tickled at her skin as he kissed her deeply. “Keep your sword with you today, will you?”

Her first instinct was to tease, her second was to remind him that she could take care of herself. But the worried furrow between his brows was new, so she decided to humor him. It would, after all, be the first time he had been away for more than a couple of hours since they were wed. “Of course.”

With a smile and one last kiss, he grabbed his cloak from the hook on the wall and answered the door just as Steven was about to pound on it once more.

“About time,” Steven said with a grin. “Morning, Darcy.”

“Good morning, Steven,” Darcy said as she pinned her apron in place. “Take care of my man out in the woods today. I’ve grown quite fond of him.”

She grabbed James’ hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping that one touch could convey that she would be fine. As she was about to let go, James gripped harder and pulled her to him, giving her one last kiss to the forehead.

“I love you, _min elskan_.”

Darcy’s heart fluttered in her chest like a bird preparing for flight. They’d done a delicate dance these last few weeks, getting to know each other better in between the hours they spent tangled up in each other’s arms. But this was the first time the word “love” had been spoken. She hadn’t planned on saying those words to him this day, but she knew it was time. “And I love you, James.”

 

~*~

 

Jane’s time was approaching fast, and Margaret had insisted that the mother-to-be rest as much as she could in the coming days. She feared that with a man of Thor’s stature and Jane’s small frame, the birth would be difficult. As such, in addition to showing Darcy how to make the salve for James’ arm, they would also be preparing various medicines and other materials for the babe’s arrival.

Margaret and Darcy had ventured to the edge of the forest, on the hunt for a small white flower whose leaves made a potent tincture known for easing pain. Darcy had let Syn off her lead, and the dog bounded through the tall grasses merrily. She would be a mess by the time they returned home, but she was too happy, so Darcy let her be and turned her mind to other pressing concerns.

With a sidelong glance at her friend, she said, “Steven has been here quite a bit longer than I would have thought, don’t you think?”

“Has he?” Margaret glanced at the ground a little too studiously, her words a little too casual.

Darcy pressed on. “One might say that. At least he’s very pleasing to look at, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Tired of your new husband so soon, Darcy?” A sly smile played across her lips, and Darcy knew her friend was on to her.

She knocked into Margaret’s shoulder with her own. “He means to propose, doesn’t he? Tell me! You must. We’re friends.”

Margaret’s laughter rang out, loud enough to distract Syn from investigating a hollowed our tree trunk. “The idea might have been discussed, you nosy thing. But that’s not why we’re here. Look. I think I see some of the plant over there.”

They ventured further into the wood, Syn abandoning her tree trunk when Darcy called for her. Margaret’s eyes were keen, and she had indeed spotted the plant they hunted for. There was also wild sage growing next to it, and the women were busy for a moment gathering up as much of the plants as they could.

“What about you?” Margaret asked. “At the rate you’ve been coupling, I’m surprised you haven’t come to see me regarding something in particular _…_ ”

“Margaret!”

It was a good thing their men had gone off in a different direction, because Darcy was sure she and her friend had scared off all the game in the area.

“Am I wrong?” Margaret asked coyly.

Heat rose to Darcy’s cheeks. “You’re not wrong.”

The grin Margaret gave her was blinding. “And were you going to come by for me to take a look at you?”

Darcy bit into her lower lip. “Not until I was certain.”

Margaret flung an arm around her friend, mindful of the precious herbs held in their outstretched aprons. “If it’s true, then I am very happy for you, Darcy. I could check you now? If you like?”

“In the middle of the forest!”

Margaret nodded, and without waiting she reached a hand under Darcy’s apron, palpating her lower abdomen over her shift. “Your bleeding?”

“Late, but not _that_ late.”

“Any sickness? Are your breasts sensitive?”

Darcy’s blush grew. “Yes to both.”

Margaret took her friend’s hand. “I’d like to wait a bit longer to say with certainty, but my guess is that Jane’s babe will have a cousin sooner rather than later.”

“Do you think so?”

The look Margaret gave her then was not the look one friend gives another, but rather the assessing gaze of the town healer who had brought many children into the world to happy, healthy mothers. “I do,” she said after a while. “But if you want to be certain before you tell James, we could wait a bit longer.”

Darcy nodded, pretending to examine the herbs held in her apron. _A child._ She and James might have made a child. Her thoughts from the morning came back to her, about how she might want the extra protection of a loyal hound once she was carrying, and she looked around for Syn. The dog was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn it all,” Darcy muttered. “Syn! _Syn!”_

There was a sharp crack behind them, and both women whirled. Darcy’s hand went to her sword and with only a glance from the corner of her eye, she could see that Margaret had already nocked an arrow to her bow. Though they hadn’t had to protect their town in some time, neither woman had forgotten how to do so.

Standing ten paces away was a stranger, and he held Syn by the scruff of her neck. Upon seeing Darcy, the dog whimpered.

“Let her go,” Darcy said, proud that none of her seething anger made it into her voice.

“You sure?” the stranger asked. He turned Syn about, and the dog let out a piteous whine. “Looks like a runt to me. Might be better off drowning the thing.”

The man was tall, and his dark hair was cropped close on the sides but long at the top. His eyes were a strange greenish brown and his tan skin suggested he spent most of his days outdoors and in the sun. The black furs of his cloak made his shoulders look even wider than they were, and Darcy was sure that there were muscles lurking beneath the fabric. But the worst thing about the man was the white clay he’d streaked across his face.

Thick lines swooped over his brows and across his cheekbones, and four white lines streaked over his lips and down his chin. The work was rudimentary, but the image was still clear: the man had painted his face to look like a skull.

“Let her go and leave us be.” Darcy raised her sword and began to mentally brace herself for the fact that something terrible might happen to her dog.

The man tossed Syn to the ground, the poor dog’s legs faltering beneath her before she got back up and ran to Darcy’s side. Once safely between Darcy and Margaret, the dog began to growl at the man fiercely.

This show of force seemed to amuse him. With a smile that harbored no good cheer, he withdrew his hands from within his cloak and held them up high. While meant to be a show of harmlessness, it also revealed the axe strapped to his hip and more white clay forming an X over his chest. “I am going about this all wrong. I’m looking for a man, perhaps you can help me?”

Darcy’s arm felt as though it was on fire from holding her sword in the same position for so long. She wanted this over and him gone. “What man?”

“He’s tall. Dark hair, blue eyes. Nasty scar, here,” he said tapping his left arm. “Have you seen him?”

A yawning pit opened up in Darcy’s stomach, but she did her best to keep her features flat. Even so, the man had sharp eyes, and she was afraid of her face betraying her. “We know of no such man. Now leave.”

The man’s grin widened, and he took a step forward only to immediately halt again when he heard the creak of Margaret’s bow drawing tighter. “Truly? For we heard he was coming this way to take a wife, and, not only that, but the weapon you’re holding was made by the smith in his old village.”

 _Damn this man!_ “I already told you we have heard of no such person. And as for this sword, my father is a merchant. He trades all across this land and he must have gotten it at this village you speak of. Now for the last time, _leave._ ”

Long seconds passed. Overhead, birds twittered happily, and a cold breeze rustled the leaves. Just as she planned to give Margaret the signal to loose her arrow, the man gave a bow, and turned away.

Darcy told herself she only needed to hold her sword up for ten seconds more…another ten…and another. When the only sounds she could hear were the animals chattering and Syn’s growling, Darcy finally dropped her weapon. Margaret however kept her arrow pointed forward, her gaze darting from tree to tree.

“Gather up what we dropped,” Margaret said in a whisper. “I’ll keep watch. And then we must _go._ ”

Darcy sheathed her sword and dropped to her knees, gathering up as many of the herbs as she could. Her trembling fingers fumbled, and she feared she was picking up more of the surrounding weeds than the herbs. But while her hands worked, her mind wandered to the far side of the forest where her husband hunted, oblivious to the fact that he himself was being hunted as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add - Syn is a Norse goddess charged with protecting Frigg's great hall, ensuring unwelcome visitors could not enter. She's also considered to be the goddess of justice. Seemed like a perfect name for a guard dog.


	5. Chapter Five

James hadn’t spoken since she’d told him. About the man with the skull on his face. The way he had described James perfectly. The way his eyes had seen more than most would have, and how he had pieced together all the clues so neatly. Now James sat on the edge of their bed, elbows to his knees and face buried in his palms.

Steven, on the other hand, was much more verbal in his reaction. “How could they have found us? Why do they want you so much?”

He set back to pacing, though there wasn’t much room for him to do so. Margaret had stayed with Darcy until James and the other men returned, but had left once they’d told their story, citing the need to prepare for Jane’s upcoming delivery. Now the rest of them were crowded into the tiny cottage, along with Erik and the Jarl.

James finally moved. He straightened, finding his friend across the room and looking at him squarely. “I told you they won’t give up. In their minds, I belong to them now.”

“I should have _never_ agreed to this marriage,” Erik said from his place by the fire. “You should go. Now. Save my daughter from these rogues.”

Darcy though flames might spill from her mouth should she open it, but open it she did. “If you can’t say anything helpful, then leave. You might have arranged this marriage, but I chose him. And I love him. So be helpful or be quiet, father, those are the only choices at this moment.”

Erik seemed stunned, but that didn’t last long. He wrapped his cloak around himself and made for the door. He pointed one accusing finger at James, who flinched under the old man’s glare. “If that brute cares for you, Darcy, he’ll leave in the night and never return.”

Silence rang in the cottage as Erik stormed out. Darcy thought she might be sick. What would she do if James left? As new as he was to her life, she had quickly reached a point where she wanted him it. She moved to sit beside him, but before she could, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and so quiet that only she could hear, he said, “I am so sorry, _min elskan_.”

She wrapped her arms around his big shoulders and squeezed him as hard as she could. “This isn't your fault, James. And don’t you dare think of leaving me.”

The Jarl, Steven, and Thor seemed to hold a silent conversation made up of long glances and small gestures before the elder coughed and held up a hand. “James, you have wed one of our finest shield maidens, and as such you fall under my protection. I will not ask you to leave our village. Tomorrow we will have search parties scour the woods to see if we can find out where this man went. I’ll also station watchmen between the town and the forest.” He walked over to stand before them and placed his hand on James’ shoulder. “We will get past this, I swear it.”

A chorus of thanks filled the cottage as the Jarl made his exit, Steven and Thor following soon after. When they were alone, James drew her in even closer. The fire crackled and snapped behind her, and in the quiet she could hear Syn whimpering softly in her sleep. Darcy threaded her fingers through his hair, over and over. “I won’t let them have you,” she said. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

James huffed out a laugh, but she knew his heart wasn’t in it. He slid one hand along her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. “I don’t doubt you mean that, but they won’t stop.”

He was quiet for several heartbeats before he drew in a shuddering breath. “I tried so hard to get away from them. And I managed it, once. They let me wander in the woods for a day before they brought me back. Turns out they’d followed me the whole time, they simply wanted to give me hope. That night they took the brand to my arm.

"After that, it was simply easier to do as they asked. I did…terrible things, _min elskan._ Things that make me feel unworthy to touch you, to live this life with you. But then Steven found me. When I saw him, it was like I remembered. That I didn’t always live like Hydra, and that I could stop if I wanted to.

“Between the two of us, we killed more than half of them. It was enough to allow us to get away. But apparently, it still wasn't enough. The man you saw today was called Crossbones.” The fingers he had curled around her hip tightened. “If you see him again, Darcy, please. Run. Don’t try to fight him. I know you’ll want to fight and I know you are more than capable, but he is vicious and I couldn’t live with myself if he laid a hand on you.”

His next breath came in on a gasp, and Darcy’s heart twisted. She hated the men who had done this, hated them with every drop of blood in her body. If she could, she would rip them limb from limb, and do it with a smile on her face. But more than all of that, she loved James.

She took his face in both her hands and laid her mouth on his. Everything she was feeling – the love she had for him and the life they were making, the thought of the child that might be growing in her belly, the desire to keep him safe – all of it went into that kiss. With each press of her lips, each stroke of her tongue, James seemed to come back to her.

He grabbed onto her waist and lifted, allowing her to put one knee to either side of his hips and straddle him. She immediately began to untie the laces of his tunic, her clever fingers making quick work of them. They broke away only long enough for Darcy to strip him of his shirt. While she smoothed her fingers over the spread of his shoulders, James was busy rucking up her skirts. He pushed her dress and apron up and off her body in one motion, leaving her delightfully nude in his arms.

The callouses on his hands scraped along the smooth skin of her back, from her hips to her shoulders and back down again before sweeping to her front and cupping both her breasts together to feast on. He swept his tongue over one nipple while rolling the other between his fingers, and Darcy moaned, her back arching.

His movements were harried, almost frenzied. As if the moment could disappear any second and he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ let that happen. And truthfully, Darcy understood. Outside were all the things they had to worry about – Hydra and Crossbones, Erik and his nasty words, Jane and the difficult time ahead for her. But here, in this bed, it was just the two of them, and Darcy wanted as much of James as he would give her in that moment.

James sank backward onto their bed, sticking two fingers in his mouth then slipping those fingers into her core, thrusting them in and out until he was gliding in her slick. He withdrew, but only long enough to wriggle his trousers low enough to free his cock. Then he gripped her hips once more and entered her.

They stilled, reveling in the feel of the other. In the heat and the sting of the stretch. Then Darcy braced her hands against his chest and began to ride him. With each movement of her hips, James thrust upwards, until the cottage was filled with the sounds of their bodies meeting. His fingers dug into her thighs as he raised her along his shaft and brought her down again with more force than she could have managed on her own.

Each time he slammed home Darcy felt sparks as he connected with the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Her breathing came ragged and fast until finally, finally her pleasure unfurled within her. As her inner muscles clenched down on him, he followed her over the edge.

Darcy collapsed onto his chest, rising and falling with each breath. His heart thudded beneath her ear, the tempo slowing steadily. She drew up a hand to tangle in his hair. “I love you,” she said, noting the steadying beat in his chest, the scent of the woods that still clung to his skin, the way the light sheen of sweat highlighted every dip and swell of his muscled chest.

James wrapped his arms around her, rolling them both to lie on their sides. Stray hairs clung to her sweaty skin, and he pushed them behind her ear with his blunt fingertips. “ _Min elskan,_ I want you to know, if they come for me, I will fight. For you. For us. But if they take me, don’t risk yourself by trying to save me. I could sustain myself reliving the minutes we had together, but I might die knowing they had you in their clutches.”

Darcy's throat ached with a sob she wouldn't let out. She didn't know what to say, so, ultimately, she didn't say anything at all. She simply burrowed into his chest and stayed there until sleep took them both.

 

~*~

 

They slept, though Darcy couldn’t be sure how long. All she knew was the fire had died low and Syn had snuck onto the bed, burrowing her small body up against Darcy’s belly. James was snug against her back, one hand gripping into her hip. Then Darcy heard it again; a furtive knock coupled with her name.

She disentangled herself from her man and the piles of blankets, and crept to the door, opening it a crack. It was Margaret, her hair hastily pulled back and her arms laden with supplies.

“It’s Jane,” the woman said, a bright glint in her eye despite the hour. “The babe is coming. Will you help me?”

The baby! “Of course,” Darcy said, whispering to not wake James or the dog. “Let me dress and I’ll meet you there.”

She closed the door and began to hunt for clothing in the dim light of the embers. By the time she’d put on her shift and had her old, stained apron in her hands, James had begun to stir. She sat beside him on the bed and ran her fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. “I must go help Jane,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper. “Keep an eye on Syn. I’ll likely be back in the afternoon.”

James pushed himself up on an elbow, staring at her blearily. “I should go with you.”

“Don’t be silly. Jane and Thor only live a few houses away and this could take hours.” She bent down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Be safe today in the woods.”

He nodded as he put his head back down to the bed, curling an arm around the dog when she moved into the space Darcy had vacated. She smiled at them as she braided her hair into one long plait, and left their cottage.

Jane and Thor’s home was closer to the shore, and Darcy began to wind her way through the buildings toward the sound of waves upon sand. No torches burned to light her way, but the moon was bright and the sky was clear. The night air was cool and tinged with salt, and Darcy took in great big lungfuls of it to steady herself.

This wasn’t the first birth she’d helped with, but it was her _sister._ Would the babe look like Jane? Or Thor? Would she have a niece or a nephew? None of that really mattered, though. All that mattered was that by the end of the day, her family would have grown. She only wished her father wasn’t being such an ass during what should be such a happy time.

A pebble skittered past her feet, but when Darcy looked behind her, the pathway was empty. Perhaps she had kicked the rock unknowingly. She held her apron closer to her chest and quickened her pace.

But she had only walked a few paces more when two more stones tumbled down the path, one on each side of her body. It must be one of the youths in town, eager to play a prank. Darcy whirled about, ready to unleash unholy rage upon whoever it might be, but the words died in her mouth.

Not two paces away from her stood Crossbones. A grin split his face, made all the more eerie by the streaks of white clay caked onto his features. Before Darcy could do anything he darted forward, shoving a dirty rag into her mouth and wrapping one big arm around both of hers, pinning them to her sides.

The rag tasted of dirt and something she feared might be blood. Before she could push it out of her mouth his free hand was there, forcing it back in and covering her nose. She tried to scream, but between the gag and his big hand, all that came out was a muted cry.

Crossbones lifted her up as though she weighed nothing and began to make his way to the shore. She kicked at his shins and was rewarded with a chuckle. “Relax, _shield maiden,_ ” he said, twisting the words until they were a mockery of everything she was.

Darcy was running out of air and options. Through her blurring gaze she could see that a small boat had been hastily brought ashore, and Crossbones was headed straight for it.

A boat! They’d assumed that if Hydra were to attack it would be by land, not by sea. No one would even know where to look once they realized she was gone.

She had little time. As her lungs burned and she tried to stay awake, Darcy did the only thing she could. She dropped her dirty apron on the beach, and prayed to all the gods that someone would find it and find it soon.

Sea spray stung at her face, shocking her awake for a few seconds more. She had enough time to see her little village, silvered in the moonlight, before all thought left her, and she passed out.

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I could probably polish this more, but I need to get it off my desk. (This thing was only supposed to be a couple of chapters of smut, and WHOOPS.) I reserve the right to come back in and edit later. 
> 
> Check the end notes for trigger warnings. Feel free to skip this chapter if it's not your cuppa.

When consciousness crept back up on Darcy, the first sensation she processed was one of movement. It was a gentle _rocking, rocking, rocking_ , like a hand on a cradle. A dull throbbing addled her head, and she tried to bring her hand to her brow but it was stuck. She tugged, _harder,_ but she couldn’t move. She opened her eyes.

It was day now, though still early morning judging from the sun’s position in the sky. How long had she been out? Her arms were stiff and ached fiercely, and when she looked up, she saw that her hands were bound and fastened to a hook above her head. To a mast.

The rocking suddenly made sense. She was on a longboat anchored in the middle of the fjord, and there, no farther off than a good swim away was her village. The beating of her heart began to quicken, and she tried to stay calm as she took in the rest of her surroundings. At least dozen men were on board. Some dozed, some sat sharpening their weapons, some stared at the shore. There might have been more behind her, but she had no way of knowing. And standing at the bow were Crossbones and an older man with pale red hair, both staring at her.

Upon seeing that she was awake, the older man made his way across the hull toward her. He didn’t bother to ensure his path was clear, just trusted that his men – for it was clear this was the man in charge – would move out of his way. And they did. They shrank back with expressions that were equal parts fear and pride.

There was nothing notable about him, nothing to suggest why he inspired this reaction out of his men. His face was lined and his skin was weathered. He moved with an ease that suggested he hadn't had to fight for anything he wanted in a long time. That wasn't right, Darcy thought. Perhaps he hadn't used his muscles in a while, but the shrewd glitter in his eyes said he'd definitely used his wits.

“Let me go,” Darcy said, as he stopped in front of her.

The breeze ruffled the furs draped over his shoulders as he looked her over from her bound hands to her bare feet, but he didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth to answer.

“I said _let me go_.” Darcy brought up her knee swiftly, aiming to kick him in the groin, but with one hand he blocked her and with the other he struck her across the cheek. The slap stung, and after the initial pain ebbed away, Darcy realized her lip was split and a thin trickle of blood dripped down her chin.

The man wiped a smear of her blood off his knuckles. “This plan had better work, Crossbones.”

“It’ll work,” Crossbones said in his rough rasp.  “And when it works, I get to keep her, yes?”

The older man let his gaze slip from Darcy to Crossbones. “You can have whatever you want so long as you bring back the Berserker.”

A chill slid down Darcy’s spine. The Berserker. James. In the time she’d known him, she’d never asked how he had attained the name. Her father and Thor had mentioned that he was a skilled fighter, and she could see how that would be true, considering how strong he was, how he moved with grace and purpose. But to hear the word come from this man’s mouth made her feel as though he wasn’t talking about a person. He was talking about a weapon.

“Well then,” the man said, “let’s get started.”

Crossbones smiled a smile that made Darcy begin to struggle at her bonds anew. She wouldn’t let them have James, not while she lived and breathed on this earth. But as she squirmed fruitlessly, Crossbones brought a ram’s horn to his mouth and blew.

The deep bellow echoed across the fjord, bouncing against the cliffs until the one note sounded far bigger than it had any right to be. He took a breath and blew again and again, until a small crowd built up on the shore. They were close enough that though her fellow villagers appeared to be small, she could still make out their faces. But even if she couldn’t, she would have know James from the moment he broke through the crowd and crashed into the water of the fjord.

The older man made his way back to the bow of the ship. With a strong, clear voice that carried over the water, he yelled, “I am Alexander, leader of the Hydra tribe, and I only ask for one thing. Send the Berserker to me and we shall leave you in peace. Keep him, and we will drown your shield maiden before your eyes. You have till midday.”

Alexander stepped back from the edge of the boat, his gaze sliding back to Darcy. “And now, we wait.”

 

~*~

 

The crowd on the beach grew and grew as the sun climbed the sky. Darcy wished she could tell her friends so much. That she was fine. That James couldn’t be drawn back into Hydra’s clutches. That she was sorry she’d been caught unawares and captured in the first place. But all she could do was watch as they plotted and scrambled.

Darcy's arms ached continuously, and her hands prickled and stung. She wished she could sit, or better yet, lie down. The sun had nearly reached its zenith when Crossbones approached her. He held a waterskin up to her mouth, and she eyed the thing distrustfully. It would be foolish for him to harm her when she was being used as bait, but she also knew Crossbones couldn’t be trusted. What if he gave her something that would harm her? Or worse, the baby? When Darcy refused he rolled his eyes. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Crossbones drank deeply from the skin before offering it back to her. In the end, desperation and thirst won out. She drank, eager to rid herself of the lingering taste from the dirty rag that had been crammed into her mouth earlier.

He pulled the waterskin away far sooner than she would have liked, _tsk_ ing at her when she made a noise of complaint. “When you are mine,” he said as he wiped some of the dried blood from her chin with his thumb, “you’ll learn to be grateful for what you’re given.”

“When I kill you,” Darcy said, praying to all the gods that she’d be able to keep the promise she was making, “you will regret every injustice you ever set upon me.”

For the second time that morning, Darcy felt the sting of a slap to the face. It came so fast and was so hard it startled a scream out of her, one that echoed off the cliffs for what felt like endless seconds.

“Do not anger me, girl,” he said as he stroked the cheek he’d just hit. “I would hate to have to break you before I could play with you. But-” he dug his thumb into her split lip, and pulled a whimper out of her “-I will, if you make me.”

“Movement on the shore!”

Darcy couldn’t see who had yelled, but at the announcement, the men who had been relaxed moments before stood to attention, all eyes on the small boat rowing toward them.

“Is it him?” Alexander asked from his seat near the stern.

One of the men turned to face his leader. “’Tis. And the man who helped him escape.”

Crossbones’ grip on Darcy’s chin tightened, and she knew he must have fought Steven before. It would be foolish in the extreme to taunt this man, but Darcy had never been one to know when to hold her tongue. She tilted her chin upward in his grip and asked him, “Frightened?”

 “You don’t seem to understand the severity of your situation.” He released her face only to dig his bruising fingers into her hips, lifting her to raise her bound hands up and off the hook. “Let’s show your _husband-”_ he said the word like it was filthy, “exactly why he needs to remain compliant.”

For a few brief moments, relief coursed through Darcy as she was able to finally move her arms. Before she could calm the trembling in her strained limbs, Crossbones dragged Darcy over to one of the rowing benches and sat. He tugged her down into his lap, arranging as though she were a plaything. She tried to push his hands away as he rucked up her skirt to bare her thighs, but he simply wrapped one big hand around the ropes that bound her and kept her still. Once she stopped squirming, he moved her messy braid to her other shoulder so James would have a clear view of her bloodied lip and the bruises blossoming across her cheek. “Be a good girl now,” he said, his mouth close enough to her ear that he was able to nip at it.

Darcy’s anger bubbled within her until she feared she might do something rash. The man was unquestionably stronger than her, but she couldn’t help but test his grip on her bonds one more time, only to have him smack her bare thigh for the trouble. Just as she was trying to see what she might be able to utilize for an escape, James boarded the ship.

Darcy knew her husband was a big man. She had seen him spar, and knew his strength was only matched by that of Steven, and only surpassed by that of Thor. But watching him tread the hull to approach Alexander, she was struck with the notion that he was also a very intimidating man. He prowled toward the older man like a wolf hunting prey. Never had he needed to fight for his life in the time she had known him, but if he was as good a fighter as he had been made out to be, then she could understand why Hydra had gone through such great lengths to keep him.

James’ gaze landed on her, and she could see the flare of anger sweep over his face. All she wanted was to go to him, to hold him and get him away from these men. The villain holding her must have known it, because Crossbones’ grip on her tightened as he nuzzled at her jaw. And though the order seemed to be for Darcy, he stared down James as he said, “Behave.”

The man named Alexander joined them near the mast. “Do you have anything you would like to say to me?” the older man asked.

“Release my wife,” James said. “She has no part in this. My friend will take her back to shore.”

Alexander’s craggy face settled into a frown, as though those were not the words he had hoped to hear. “If I let your pretty wife go, then you have no reason to comply. If I keep her…”

Darcy saw the exact moment James completed the older man’s words in his head. His shoulders slumped at the same time a furrow dug deep between his brows. “I give you my word - I will do whatever you want if you let her go.”

The man shook his finger at James as he stepped behind Crossbones. “Do you know how many men I lost when you escaped? Eleven. And then another three as we searched for you. I will not risk you running a third time. So, to ensure you won't leave, I have am going to keep something you treasure.”

As Darcy watched James, something cool and hard pressed into her jaw, startling her. “You see, I wager you would do anything to keep her safe. And I believe the same could be said of your wife. For example…”

The pressure moved from her jaw to her throat, and from the look in James’ eyes she knew it was a blade. She didn’t move, barely breathed. And though she couldn’t see him, she could hear the smile in his voice when Alexander said, “Kneel.”

With no hesitation James dropped to his knees, hard, the movement driving a hollow thump from the wooden beams of the hull. Alexander threaded his fingers through Darcy’s hair and forced her head around so she could look at him. “Your turn. You’ve been quite troublesome for Crossbones, girl. Give him a kiss in apology, or we’ll run your man through.”

The rasp of steel on steel cut through the chorus of laughter from the other men, and when Darcy glanced at James, a sword was held to his neck. Her stomach roiled at the sight, not with fear but with anger. It pulsed in time to the beat of her heart, it made her breathing ragged. She would not allow this to go one step further. She gave James the tiniest of nods, her only warning, before she turned to Crossbones and kissed him.

The touch of her mouth on his, willingly, seemed to shock the mercenary into stillness. But his mind quickly caught up. He released her bound hands to paw at her ass, and when he opened his mouth to her, Darcy seized her chance. She took his lower lip between her teeth and bit clean through his flesh. Raucous cheers had risen from the crew the moment she’d begun to kiss Crossbones, so loud that at first none of them seemed to hear his scream of pain. 

With one swift, smooth movement James drew a wicked looking dagger from his boot and swept at the legs of the man nearest him, severing tendons and felling him in one clean swoop. With a bellow so deep and loud he must have been heard by every villager on the shore, he yelled for his friend. “Steven!”

The air around her quickly filled with the sounds of skirmish – the clang of metal on metal, the meaty thwacks of flesh ramming into flesh. Overhead, gulls and hawks squawked impatiently, hoping there might be something for them to pick at when this was all over.

Darcy knew she hadn’t a moment to lose. Crossbones seemed to be in shock, perhaps from the pain, as he dazedly brought his fingers to probe his mangled mouth. She reached across his lap and found his axe, slipping it from his belt. It was awkward, but she was still able to get a decent grip on the handle, and she rose to stand before her captor.

His thoughts seemed to come back to him then, and he got to his feet, drawing his sword. “You bitch.”

Darcy couldn’t help herself when she heard his garbled words. She smiled, knowing it would be particularly horrifying with his blood bright on her chin. Raising his own axe against him, she widened her stance and waited for him to take the first swing. When he did, it was strong and sure, and between her poor grip on the axe and his size and skill, she was barely able to deflect it. If there was any chance of her defeating him, she needed to find a weak spot and find it soon.

He swung at her again and she dodged, banging her hip into the side of the ship. Crossbones bared his teeth and lifted his sword over his head before bringing it crashing down. Darcy moved to her left, barely avoiding the blade as it struck the gunwhale and lodged deep into the wood.

Losing his weapon barely slowed him down. He abandoned the sword, picking up a dagger from one of his fallen brothers. Darcy backed away and tightened her grip on the axe, watching, waiting. Crossbones swung high, and  _there._  Darcy went low, throwing every bit of force she had in her behind the axe.

A scream unlike any she’d heard before tore from his mouth, rage and pain all rolled together in one. The weapon was stuck in his leg, and Darcy was sure she had felt the blade touch bone when she swung. It was a mortal wound, they both knew it. She simply had to stay away from him until the loss of blood made him too weak to go after her.

Crossbones was so big there was no way she could get around him. All she could do was back away, hoping he would pass out before she ran out of ship. He limped toward her, grinning as if his lifesblood wasn’t running down his leg, until Darcy’s back pressed against the inside edge of the stern, and her pursuer laughed darkly. As he crowded against her, the blood from his leg soaking into her shift, hot and sticky, he said, “You might just have done me in, girl. But the least I can do is take you with me.”

Tears pricked at Darcy's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not for this man. But in her heart, she mourned for her lost time with James, and for the babe just barely growing inside of her. She wished that she had told him.

Crossbones raised his dagger, all teeth and wild eyes, but the blade never fell. Instead, the man did.

Darcy’s breath stuttered in her throat as she watched Crossbones collapse to the hull, a small dagger embedded in the back of his neck. She looked up. James stood a few paces in front of her, his chest heaving. Blood was splattered over his face had soaked into his cloak. The bodies of the crew were strewn about him.

_James._

He had saved her. _Saved them both._ She needed him, needed to feel his arms wrap around her, needed to know he was safe. Carefully, she stepped over the corpse at her feet and once clear, ran the short distance to her husband. She didn’t care that he was covered in gore, didn’t care about what had nearly happened to them.

She collided into him and threw her bound hands around his neck. At her touch whatever trance he was in broke and he reacted, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her in close. He buried his face in her hair, warm breath ghosting down her neck and all the tension left her body.

He was here, he was safe, and he was hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential TWs: Lots of violence and blood; at one point Darcy bites her captor hard enough to maim. Darcy is touched (on her face and legs) against her will and struck twice.
> 
> Also, I kind of meant to show how James earned his nickname, but it just didn't work out that way. Cue that gif of Seb shrugging like a madman.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little epilogue to wrap this up.

Darcy stood near the giant bonfire in the center of her village, just as she had many months ago for her own wedding. The flames snapped and crackled merrily, straining for the night sky. Salty sea air mingled with the scents of the feast to come. The evening could have been a perfect match; the only difference was that now, she already had her husband.

James stood at her back, his arms wrapped around her middle, hands atop her growing belly. Her suspicions had been right that day in the forest; she and James would have their first child sometime in the summer. Never had she seen a person as ecstatic as James the day she told him the good news. 

James dropped his chin to her shoulder. “Do you think she’s changed her mind?”

The very thought made Darcy smile. “Ridiculous man, of course not. Have you seen the way Steven looks at her? Margaret would never.”

“Still don’t know how he gathered up the courage to talk to her,” James said as he snugged his arms more securely around her. “Steven never did well around a beautiful woman. Did you see his face when your father proposed that he marry you instead of me? I thought he would faint.”

Darcy laughed, loud enough to draw Steven’s attention. She composed herself as quickly as she could, but she knew Steven must have guessed they were talking about him, judging from his raised eyebrow. In an effort to change the topic, she turned toward her husband and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Is that a very roundabout way of complimenting me?”

“ _Min elskan,_ with you, there is no need to take the long route to a compliment.” He brought a hand to her chin and angled her toward him for a kiss. Tentative touches turned into something deeper all too quickly. His tongue traced the outline of her lower lip, teasing, before giving it a swift nip.  When he released her mouth, he touched his forehead to hers. “You are brave and cunning and beautiful. How I managed to win your heart, I’ll never know, but I will do everything in my power to stay in your good graces.”

A heat that had nothing to do with the bonfire colored Darcy’s cheeks. Would there ever be a day when his half-lidded gaze didn’t set her insides alight? She hoped not.

Margaret appeared then on the arm of her father, and Darcy didn’t have to respond. Instead, she and James watched as their friends were wed.

The words, more than just something she’d long ago memorized, felt weightier now. When the couple held out their arms to be bound together, James’ hand twitched against her belly, and she brought her left hand up to clasp his. Before, she thought she was giving up her freedoms – to choose a man for herself, to live her life how she wanted. But instead of losing something, she gained many things. A partner, a lover, a friend. Someone who respected her, trusted her to make the right decision always. It seemed like a fair trade to her.


End file.
